quick little ficlet...um. a little hard to describe but i guess piss kink, sweat kink, humiliation and ofc ongoing background orgasm denial
post-workout one day shane goes into the living room and is taken aback by something he sees. it's a bucket of water and ilya's taking off his sweaty socks and underwear and throwing them in it. shane's so confused but he doesn't really say anything—its not like either of them do laundry regularly or anything, so who knows what that's about. maybe some sort of pre treatment?
he almost forgets about it. but a little bit later, ilya's calling shane over and putting him on his knees besides the bucket, empty now of the clothes and with just dirty water in it now. and he asks shane, "do you want to come, baby?"
and yeah. of course shane does. he hasn't been allowed to come in days at this point and he's getting desperate. so he nods. says a very pretty, “yes sir.”
and ilya grins, says, "you want a chance to earn it?" and he's already taking his dick out so shane's mouth starts watering just in response even as his brain tells him there’s danger, that ilya’s about to do something. there’s the look in ilya's eyes doesn't bode well for him.
but he's not gonna say no. so he nods. says "please" bc he knows better than to forget his manners.
ilya nods over at the counter. "give that to me." its the gatorade bottle that shane had emptied out earlier today. one of those squeezy tops that means either the gatorade squirts out in a stream or you have to suck. shane was mad at ilya when he’d bought a crate of them. it had been irrational and he’d apologized and explained later when ilya had prodded. shane doesn't always like them because the taste of feels more intense somehow, delivered like that.
shane blinks. knee walks over to the counter and brings it back.
"all this water," ilya says, still that gleeful sparkle in his eye. "your nice well water. we don't want it to go to waste, no?"
shane's stomach twists. "no. we don't want that," shane says.
"no," ilya says, smiling. "get some in that bottle, shane."
shane shudders. tries to figure out how he can do that before realizing there's just one option. he'll have to dunk in the bottle. no way he wont get any on his hand.
his stomach twists as he does as he's told. cringing a bit as the dirty water fills the bottle.
he holds it up when he does. "it's done," he says, voice shaking.
ilya nods. then, a pause. "jesus christ, shane. do i have to tell you everything? drink it. we're not letting this go to waste."
shane closes his eyes. his hands are shaking when he brings the bottle to his mouth.
he wraps his lips around the tip of the bottle and tries to brace himself, closing his eyes and reminding himself that it was almost half a bucket of water and ilya doesn't even sweat all that much—(a lie. ilya sweats a lot).
"sweetheart," says, hand on shane's wrist to tug the bottle away and out of his mouth. relief fills shane's body in a rush. he wont have to drink it. ilya was just fucking with him.
he likes doing that. fucking with shane mentally just as much as physically. it gets both of them hard
"you don't want to drink it?" ilya asks, petting his head.
shane shakes his head, still staring at the bottle and the murky water.
"why not? what are you afraid of?"
shane pauses. dares to blink up at ilya's face and—all of a sudden, he's scared. he's so scared. that look is still on ilya's face.
"it’s—" dirty would be the wrong word to use. he can hear ilya's response already: but those are just my clothes. you think i'm dirty?
"it's gonna taste bad," shane lands on, eventually.
ilya makes a cooing noise. his cock is still out, mostly soft. he's turned on but he's not hard. that can't mean anything but trouble for shane.
"oh, it will taste bad?" ilya asks, "probably just a little, right? but i know my shane. my poor shane, so sensitive to even little tastes, yes?"
he grabs a handful of shane's hair. nods his head for him.
"i’ll help with it, because i love you very much,” ilya says. “hmm…let’s see…maybe i can add something that'll help with the taste. would you like that?"
shane can feel his eyes starting to prick. he usually doesn't cry this early.
ilya doesn't wait for a response. "you like how my piss tastes, no?" ilya asks.
like isn't the word shane would use.
"no?" ilya asks, tilting his head like he's confused. "but you said you did last week. you said you liked being my little urinal."
and shane did. in a desperate bid to get ilya to stop squeezing his balls.
'but you're my stress ball right now. don't you want to be my stress ball? do you like being other things better?'
'yes, yes, yes please, i like being other things better, sir. please, oh my god'
'like what kind of things?'
and shane had said so much. he can't even remember it all. he'd called himself a fleshlight. footstool. ashtray. urinal.
"i did, sir," shane says.
"then that's settled. you like how my piss tastes."
shane nods. yes. it is settled. it was settled since ilya first said the words like they were a statement of fact.
"and you are afraid of how this water will taste," ilya says.
shane did say that, didn't he?
"so how can i make this water taste good for you, shane?" ilya asks, words delivered with extra gentleness.
shane closes his eyes. blinks them open. "you can piss in it," he says. and then, because he does know better, corrects himself. "can you please piss in the water, please, sir?"
ilya grins. all teeth. "of course, baby. i am happy to help."
it takes the entire day, but shane finishes all of the water.
ilya changes his mind. he still doesn't get to come.
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